


He Watched

by lotenots



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Drabble, F/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotenots/pseuds/lotenots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin watched. </p><p>In the aftermath of the battle it seemed that was all he could do. He didn’t watch Kili. Because Kili wasn’t there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Watched

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I couldn't get out of my head. There may be more.

Dwalin watched. 

In the aftermath of the battle it seemed that was all he could do, in between the meetings with Thranduil and Dain and Gandalf and Fili and Bard and Balin. He watched Thranduil with a wary eye, but the Elvenking seemed to listen to the Wizard and promised help and supplies. He watched over Thorin, who’d not yet woken up from his wounds. He watched the hobbit, ashen faced but unhurt, sitting at the side of his King, shaking with silent tears. He watched the skinchanger who guarded Thorin and comforted the Halfling. Dwalin watched the rise and fall of his Crown Prince’s chest when he slept, and watched over him in long meetings when he was awake, keeping a keen eye for when exhaustion and pain and despair set in. He watched the elven healers, busying to and fro. 

He didn’t watch Kili. Because Kili wasn’t there. It had been four days since the Battle and they hadn’t found him yet. Or they hadn’t found his body yet. So instead he watched the battlefield, sitting outside of Thorin’s tent. He watched the dwarves and elves and men search for more wounded, and the many dead. He watched pyres be built to burn the corpses of orcs and goblins. 

And now, as he watched, he saw yet another elf, this one with long red hair, the warrior, the Captain, their jailer, the one who had saved Kili so long ago in Laketown. She had helped deliver Kili to the mountain, with Oin and Bofur and Fili. She had saved Kili’s life, and the young prince had seemed enamored by her quiet fierceness. But now Kili was gone. So Dwalin watched the elf. She had been combing the battlefield with her fellows, finding wounded and dead she seemed to work with single minded determination. 

The red haired elf was carrying the remains of another elf, a gaping wound telling how he had died. She set the body down with the other elvish dead, was turning back to the field when the Elvish Prince grasped her shoulder. 

“Tauriel” That was her name, Dwalin remembered. “Come. You must rest.” The she-elf tried to shake the Prince off, murmuring that she was fine. 

“Tauriel. You have not rested since the battle. Even our bodies cannot handle that. You must rest.” Dwalin started at this. Even he had managed to snatch some sleep and a quick scrub since the battle. He looked closer at the elf. Her red hair was tangled and matted with blood, her uniform stained and armour dented. He could see where her wounds had healed, leaving behind stripes of blood on her skin. As he looked closer at her face he saw dark circles under her eyes. Dwalin shifted, uncomfortable. He’d never seen an elf look tired before. But even so her eyes blazed at the Prince.

“I cannot rest. I have to keep looking.” She turned back to the battlefield, and Legolas sighed, “You needn't search for him. The dwarves are looking for his body as we speak. You have no obligation to find him.”  
At those words Tauriel stiffened and her eyes turned cold. “I did not save him for him to bleed out on a battlefield. And Ki- The young prince still lives.” At that she wrenched her arm from Legolas’ grasp and turned back to the battlefield. 

Dwalin stared at her. No one had said that Kili was dead. But they all knew it to be true. It had been days, with no sign of a body, and so few wounded were being found now. Four days wounded meant dead. The prince had to be dead. Dwalin could see it in the eyes of the Company, in Fili’s eyes as he tried to hold things together. But this elf was so assured that he lived. And his eyes narrowed as she turned, the wind catching her hair just enough to lift it from her shoulders. Just enough to show the glint of green and gold beads woven into a decidedly non-elvish braid hidden in her hair.

He sprang up, bolted to this woman, this, if those braids were true, princess. He grabbed her arm, in the same spot the elf prince had. She turned with a scowl and a light film of tears in her eyes, and he just looked at her, 

“Oh lass, what did you two do?”


End file.
